


Crossing Battle Lines

by Marzi



Series: Battle Lines [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Romance, Shadow of Revan, all imperials are moronsexual, crackfic, exes reuniting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: Doc found himself frowning, though. Hate him? No one hated him. “You know I think you've got the wrong impression about our relationship.”“Relationship?” Malavai's gloves snapped as he peeled them off. “Five months of inconsistent sexual congress hardly counts as a relationship.”“Hardly-? I stayed in your barracks!”“You left your toothbrush in my sink. Once.”
Relationships: Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Female Sith Warrior, Malavai Quinn/Archiban 'Doc' Kimble
Series: Battle Lines [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930690
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Crossing Battle Lines

**Author's Note:**

> I need a palette cleanser for life right now, so here's some crackfic.

Yavin IV was kind of creepy, and while most of his allies were content to pretend it was a result of the encampment of Imperials right next to them, Doc knew better. He was used to being around Imperials, Balmorra (and traveling with Luce) had given him enough practice, and he _was_ a doctor, despite some peoples' disbelieving huffs. Lives came before battle lines, and he had elected to follow the Battlemaster right over more than a few of them. The tension in the air wasn't from decades of fighting, or at least, not all of it was.

Doc did not run so much as hurry gracefully towards the medical tent where he knew Battlemaster Luce Ateyo was being kept. There were things in this jungle that were almost as bad as that eerie sense of dread the planet seemed to breathe out. She had gone to scout towards the temple and apparently found herself in some trouble.

He took a breath once he reached his destination, stopping himself from immediately entering. No one had said 'critical' when they informed him of her situation, but still, it was best to check himself. He turned on his mega-watt smile before dramatically throwing open the tent flap and stepping inside.

“Never fear, Doc is- _Mal?_ ”

“Doctor Kimble.” There was a faint snap as Malavai Quinn finished putting on his gloves before his eyes dropped back to the task at hand. There was a woman in front of him wearing scarred battle armor. “My lord, this would go much better if-”

“You aren't cutting anything off, Quinn.”

It took Doc a moment to realize she was talking about the armor, and not a limb.

“I'm not exactly in a position to requisition a new set at the moment.” Her yellow eyes followed Doc as he moved towards the other cot in the room.

Luce was thankfully sitting up, though her knee was braced and elevated. The edges of her eyes crinkled with amusement, and she was smiling openly. Doc didn't think she was drugged to the gills, Jedi tended to be a bit resistant to the stuff anyway, but he brought out his med scanner just to check.

“And how are you feeling, beautiful?” His smile flickered back into place.

“I'm fine.”

The scanner told him the tendons in her knee would not require surgery to repair. With her Jedi hoodoo she would be back on her feet by sundown. “I'll be the judge of that.” He kept scanning, checking her heart rate, blood pressure, blood sugar and tried to keep an eye on the tent's other two occupants from over her knee.

“So.” There was a definite teasing tone in the Sith's drawl. The treatment of the wound at her side seemed utterly beneath her notice, even as Mal's gloves began to get bloody. “Am I just to ignore your friend, Quinn? Here I was thinking Ovech was the only one.”

“I have several acquaintances outside of the crew, my lord.”

Doc affected a hurt gasp.

“Are you alright?” Luce asked, close enough to laughter that her voice shook.

“Are you implying there's ever been anything wrong with me?” Doc placed a hand to his chest, as if struck by her words.

A very distinct Imperial huff sounded from the other side of the tent. When Doc let his eyes wander over to Mal, he realized he wasn't the only one staring. The Sith was giving the officer a look that seemed to imply he had grown a second head. Doc let his smirk curl a little tighter around the edge of his lips. Getting under peoples' skin was practically a specialty at this point. Right under charming their pants off. Or tied with. Whichever. If you were good at something, why not boast about it?

“You know Quinn, I might need to lie down after all.”

“My lord?” His brow pinched and he reached towards his medical scanner.

The Sith's tone stayed deadpan even with the smile on her lips. “I've finally met someone you hate more than Pierce _or_ Broysc. It's made me faint with shock.”

He leveled her with a look of such detached professionalism he might as well have flipped a rude gesture at her. “Your wound is sealed, though I recommend no strenuous activity. You wouldn't want to aggravate it.”

Her yellow eyes narrowed, and Luce finally burst into genuine laughter. When two sets of Imperial eyes turned on her, she choked it down quickly.

Doc found himself frowning, though. Hate him? Mal didn't hate him. No one hated _him._ “You know I think you've got the wrong impression about our relationship.”

The Sith raised an eyebrow at him, but slid off the cot without comment.

“Relationship?” Mal's gloves snapped as he peeled them off. “Five months of inconsistent sexual congress hardly counts as a relationship.”

“Hardly-? I stayed in your barracks!”

“You left your toothbrush in my sink. Once.”

“You complained about that enough to me that I feel I get honorary partner status for putting up with it as long as I did!”

Luce's laughter burst back out of her, though this time there was a touch of hysteria to it.

“And furthermore,” Doc spoke over the interruption. “It was only four months. Who's ascribing more to where there's nothing now?” Not that it had been nothing, whatever Mal was trying to pull, but if he was still harping about the damn toothbrush, then Doc was allowed to be annoyed about this extra month that didn't happen. “Screw so many Republic sympathizers on Balmorra you can't keep them straight?”

“You _are_ Republic,” Luce managed through her hiccups of faded mirth.

“I really consider myself more of a free agent, than say-”

Mal cocked an eyebrow at him. “0200 hours, the officers mess. The last shipment of-”

“Oh, _fuck._ ” Doc nearly dropped his scanner. “That was you?”

His eyes narrowed. Doc had generally gone along with the extended time frame of their relationship in the past in an effort not to rock the boat. Apparently whatever distance Mal was trying to put between them now, the fact that he wasn't well remembered after that first incident had struck a nerve. “Fuck a lot of Imperials while you failed to spy for the resistance?”

“Failed-?” Doc wasn't about to let his professional integrity to get a bad rap. “I got a lot of actionable intel! Including from you!”

“Quinn.” The Sith's voice took on a tone was significantly more dangerous than before. “Were you a threat to Imperial security while on Balmorra?”

“I released no information that was not vetted and approved to reach enemy hands, my lord.” He still fell back a step into a parade rest. “Need I remind you of recent indiscretions?”

She took a very sudden step away from him. “No.” The syllable was very clipped.

Doc looked towards Luce, hoping for a mirror of confusion, but she was twiddling her thumbs and staring at the canvas wall. Wait a minute. Lana's buddy on Manaan. The other 'trustworthy' Sith who was just 'doing the right thing' and hunting down Arkous.

He very slowly extended his hand to point a finger at the Battlemaster. He waited for her eyes to track the movement and for her head to get turned towards him. Her affected, wide, innocent eyes weren't going to deter him. “Now hang on here, you said Jedi don't-”

“Quinn.” The Sith's voice had lost its uneasiness, and the name was spoken with the familiar bent of a command.

“At once, my lord.” He moved across the tent at a brisk, even pace. “Doctor Kimble, I require your assistance with a consultation.”

“Wait, what--”

But Mal had already grabbed his arm in an iron grip and was dragging him out of the tent. Damn. He remembered those hands. It wasn't much effort to let himself be manhandled around the tent to the edge of the jungle. He may or may not have fallen against his side more times than even genuinely unsteady feet could account for. Mal's hands left him the moment he stopped walking, and Doc missed the contact.

“What? Not a security risk if your boss isn't watching?” He crossed his arms to cover up the fact he suddenly felt cold.

Mal practically rolled his eyes. “You were never a risk.”

“Yeah, well... fuck you.”

“I remember you being significantly more eloquent.”

“So you _do_ think of me fondly.” That came out sounding more... brittle than he intended. He didn't need to be relieved, he was certain he was well remembered.

“I would hope my own judgment in partners was sound enough to see me paired with someone capable of forming coherent sentences.”

“And people accuse me of using ten words where one would do.”

Mal grimaced, but had apparently decided that that line of conversation was ended. “Are you going to speak of this to anyone?”

“What? Think I'm just going to run around shouting that we-”

“Not us.”

The Battlemaster and the Sith. Had she ordered him out of the tent to _deal_ with him? “Luce is my friend. She's the only one I'll talk to about it. _I'm_ not petty.”

Mal did roll his eyes then.

“What about you?” Lieutenant Protocol was perhaps the most polite thing Doc had ever heard someone refer to Mal as on Balmorra. The fact that he had still elected to be with him had been a point of pride rather than a warning flag.

He very suddenly wouldn't look Doc in the eye though. “She has forgiven much worse from me.”

Well that sounded fucking ominous. Imperials. So fucking dramatic. “What? You misfile something?”

“It is of no concern to you.”

Right. “ _Right_. Inconsistent sexual congressees... ers..?-” absolutely no help from Mal there, normally he was more up and up on the grammar thing, “-don't get to ask questions. Got it.”

“It's been years.”

Those words were a lot softer than Doc had been expecting. He forced a shrug to buy himself time to tamp down his surprise. “Yeah well, you still remember the toothbrush.”

He got that same huff he heard back in the tent. Well, similar enough.

“And I didn't.” Doc said, not feeling defensive so much as resigned.

“What?”

“Sleep with a lot of Imperials.”

“Ah.”

Doc knew Mal was hardly the type to go cruising through Bug Town in disguise in an attempt to pick up Republic agents, but a little something in return to his confession would have been nice. Maybe he just needed an extra little shove in the right conversational direction. “And it wasn't.... it wasn't about intel.” Not really. That sort of just had been a side benefit, and Doc had never deliberately done anything with Mal in an effort to get information. Which was worse, if the spying or the sex was the bonus to his actions?

“Yes, well, you were...”

Mal, struggling for words? That set a warmth from Doc's toes straight to the top of his head.

“...you were an anomaly.”

Doc blinked. That was it? “An _anomaly?_ Weird deep space telemetry is an _anomaly._ I was damn good to you!”

“Exactly.”

“I- oh.” Well, alright, now Doc felt a little silly. “Well, you could have started with that.”

“You are,” Mal stepped forward, and his thin fingers caught Doc's jaw, eyes focusing on his lips, “ridiculous.”

Doc opened his mouth to complain that they were not about to start arguing about his mustache (again), not right _now_ when Mal's thumb brushed his lower lip. He forewent his strong desire to argue and instead made a show of taking his finger into his mouth. His blue eyes narrowed, and Doc knew it wasn't from irritation, not with how wide his pupils were blown.

If he was the only pleasant person in this man's life (and alright that wasn't really a great standard, beating out competition was really more his style) then he was going to keep up at it. Using kolto as lube clearly wasn't the most efficient use of resources given their current situation, but Doc wondered if he could perhaps get enticing enough to make the Imperial consider the idea as viable. He wrapped his hands around Mal's wrist and made a very good show of sucking his other fingers into his mouth.

_Yeah,_ his flirty through the eyelashes gaze said, _you remember that?_ Besides, anomaly was sort of a compliment if you thought about it. Unique. Unexpected. Not that a guy with exacting standards and a penchant for planning liked those qualities too much, but still. He'd liked Doc's brand of unique.

Mal took his fingers back and used his other hand to grab the back of Doc's head and pull him into a kiss. There was that sharp tongue that no one else had the good sense to appreciate (not that it was sharp in his mouth but ah, well the teeth kind of were and there was definitely a bit more biting than he remembered). Doc leaned into the kiss, moving forward until a soft _umph_ told him Mal's back had made contact with a tree. Which of them ever said they didn't work well together? Doc was pretty sure not breaking the kiss and getting the fasteners on both their coats open was pretty handy teamwork.

He pulled back suddenly. “Oh, before I forget. Congrats on the promotion.”

There was a slight flush on Mal's pale cheek and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Thank you.”

Doc beamed. “Seemed a long time coming.”

“Quite. I, uh... read your paper on-”

“I do _not_ want to be thinking about Hutts right now.”

“Indeed.” Mal's hands made their way to his ass and pulled their hips flush. “I will withhold commentary on how you cured an incurable disease.”

“Well I mean, my brilliance is always up for discussion.” Doc got his hand into his _trousers_ (how long ago had it been since he'd last made this man say a string of ridiculous Imperial phrases? Oh right, _years),_ pleased that he had remembered the trick of working with the neatly pressed seams rather than against them. They really could be obnoxiously well tailored.

“Mm. I believe the moment has passed.”

“ _Moment?_ I am more than a- _oh fuck, do that again_.”

Mal's mouth really was a pretty thing when you stopped and appreciated it. And his _hands._ He was wasted in the army, he definitely should have become a surgeon. Healers could go anywhere if they set their mind to it. _They_ could-

“Wow. Find a room. Or, uh, a tent I suppose.”

Doc felt Mal stiffen and not because of the very special attention of the hand in his pants either. Doc looked over his shoulder, flirty grin in place, towards the source of the voice. The twi'lek woman looked decidedly unamused, but her expression quickly turned to shock and a touch of horror.

“ _Quinn?_ ”

Doc heard a soft _thunk_ that had to be Mal bashing his head against the tree he was pressed up against. “Hey sweetheart, as you can see, we're in the middle of a very important medical examination here-”

“ _Kimble_ -” Mal's voice was near a growl.

Doc ignored him. “-and if you require immediate medical assistance, I'm afraid you're going to have to look elsewhere.”

She continued to gape at them, clearly struggling to look away in the same manner that some people did when confronted with a shuttle crash. “Uh, her sithiness-”

There was only the barest hint of strain in Mal's normally cool tone when he spoke. “In no immediate danger. I would have informed the crew if-”

“Yeah okay. Good to know. Walking away now.” She turned on her heel, and once her line of sight was broken, burst into a very hurried trot away from them.

Doc frowned, turning back towards Mal. They had been interrupted by someone who recognized him, thus someone not Republic. “Is the Battlemaster being treated in an Imperial med tent?”

Mal stared at him for several long, quiet seconds before responding. “You didn't notice?”

Doc shrugged. “Not really. I mean, you're here, obviously, but so is the Sith, so...”

“The uniforms perhaps?”

“It's a joint operation, they're everywhere.”

Mal sighed, and began to extricate himself from their twined embrace.

“Wow, wow, hang on, where are you going?”

“There's a supply pavilion nearby, the crates are stacked high enough to be serviceable walls.”

“Oh, well then, lead the way.” It was always good to be friends with the guy who knew his way around base. Doc had wondered just how long Mal had been on Balmorra for him to know Sobrik as well as he did. Not that the mystery of how he knew about some of those shadowy little corners hadn't been enticing in its own way.

Mal took a moment to press himself back into some semblance of order, while Doc took the chance to muss himself into an even more flagrant state of 'just fucked/will fuck/am fucking'. Doc didn't let his smile fade (wasn't sure he would be able to if he tried) and pressed a quick, soft kiss to the edge of Mal's jaw. “Ready when you are, my porcelain prince.”

Mal sighed. “Don't call me that,” but he was still the one who reached out to take Doc's hand first, pulling him farther past those invisible lines.

Doctors went wherever they were needed, and Doc was damn good at what he did.

**Author's Note:**

> There are several other authors out there who take the idea of Quinn and Doc interacting on Balmorra and do something really great with it-- but I take my cues from some random posts I saw in the Quinn tag on tumblr, and decided the two of them having been in a romantic relationship was the most hilarious thing ever. This was intended to be utterly silly, and while a tiny smidgen of feelings crept into things, this is definitely not a story that takes itself seriously. Writing comedy from an egoist POV is damn easy, so thanks for that Doc, as I generally don't enjoy your character at all. I figure Quinn is enough of an ingrained Imperial that wanting to screw the most self-absorbed thing in the room is basically second nature to him, given that's what most Sith are like and they are supposed to be the pinnacle of his society.


End file.
